


Crowley & Eve

by AnAuthorByAnyOtherName



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Because honestly the whole temptation thing was pretty stupid, Before everything goes down, Crowley and Eve Debate Theology, Scene: Garden of Eden (Good Omens), good omens - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 06:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21249263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnAuthorByAnyOtherName/pseuds/AnAuthorByAnyOtherName
Summary: As Eve contemplates the consequences of knowledge, a snake joins her in wondering if her punishment is really fair. After all, God loves them - doesn't He?





	Crowley & Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Like much the works of our dear Sir Terry, the footnotes are at the end.

The first time the snake came, her husband chased it away, hurling curses and shaking the crude spear he’d fashioned after, unbelievably, misplacing the sword. Afterwards, when he stalked back to the camp, the man shot a glare at her that indicated that this was somehow her fault, to which she did not reply.

The second time to snake approached, Eve threw rocks at it until it left, and this time Adam did not see it.

The third time, however, Adam was not there. He was out hunting, and when the serpent smoothly slid up beside the rock she was sitting on, she didn’t even acknowledge its presence. 

The snake did not move or say anything, either, simply watching the horizon with his unblinking yellow eyes. Tonight would be another storm. As she watched the gathering clouds in the distance, Eve wondered, apathetically, how disheartened she should be if Adam did not return. 

She only appeared to notice the serpent when it shifted its weight on the dry ground. She gave it a cold glare.

“Piss off, you,” she said, pawing around for a loose stone. The snake flicked its tongue at her.

_ Not much point to that, isn’t it? _ It whispered to her. _ I’ve done the tricking bit already. I’m pretty sure there aren’t any other over-glorified fruit bushes around here for me to tempt you to. _

It paused, the flicking tongue now thoughtful. _ I mean, unless you want me to. _

“Curse you!” Eve beseeched, lifting a sizable stone. “You beast whose belly drags on the ground! Your trickery is not forgotten, and I and Adam’s descendants shall kill you kind whenever we see them!”

The snake eyed the stone, but did not move. _ The belly-dragging part’s getting a little stale, you know. I think you husband used that one already. You mortals ought to get more creative with your cursing. _(1) 

Eve waved the rock menacingly. “I should not hesitate to kill you,” she growled. 

_ You shouldn’t, _ the snake said. _ And about those descendants… _

Eve’s eyes widened, and her hand flew to her belly. Already it was swelling, and already she spent her mornings clutching her stomach in wild agony, ejecting the meager contents of her stomach while Adam went to do something else. And already, she thought, now and again, she could feel something flutter within.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered. The snake cocked its head to the side.

_ No, no, _ it said - if it had hands, it would be waving them. _ Wouldn’t dream of it. Just, ah… _

He glanced down, for some reason, and leaned closer in a conspiratorial kind of way. 

_ Watch them, alright? Make sure they get along and get the peace and love and all that rubbish. Don’t let them alone for too much time. _

Eve raised an eyebrow. “Them?”

The snake shook its head. _ Oh, never you mind. Just be careful. _

Eve sighed, and lowered the rock. “I ought not to take advice from the serpent that betrayed us,” she said, tossed it away. “But…”

She glanced down her her belly again. “What’s the use? I’ve already been tempted. And, well… I know my punishment.”

The snake’s tongue flickered. Ah, yes. That. He’s heard the voice boom it in the garden, while the woman, juice still on her lips, looked terrified, and Adam had looked angry - but then again, there was some flicker of relief on his face that was plain to see: _ I’m glad it’s not me. _

The angel had repeated it too, when the two had been ushered out of the garden, but, granted, he’d had the decency to sound embarrassed by it. 

Eve looked up at the horizon again, her hand still resting on her abdomen. “It’s going to hurt, he told me,” she said, almost dreamily. “It’s going to be the worst pain imaginable, but I should be thankful to feel it, because it’ll be my penance for the sin I wrought.”

The snake, at this point, also had the decency to feel embarrassed, much in the same way that a schoolchild would watching his friend get scolded by his mother for something they’d both done. He _ did _ have a feeling that the Opposition might be a little miffed at the mortals, but, well…

_ Seems a little unfair, doesn’t it? _ He queried. _ Y’know, both you and him ate the apple, and you get the whole unrelenting pain in childbirth business, and he has to wear leaves and do a little farming? _

She snorted. “Do not attempt to deceive me, snake. My pain shall cleanse me of my sin.”

_ That sounded rehearsed. Did your husband teach that to you? _

The anger in her eyes told him the answer. “I’m cleverer than him, you know,” she spat.

_ And what good does that do you? _

She glared again, but without the fire. Instead, she looked away.

“Not much,” she muttered. “Adam says I should know my place.”

_ And what is that place? _

Her lips pursed. “A helper.”

To that, the snake did not reply. Instead, he returned to watching the horizon. He could feel the rain coming now; the air was moist, and it smelled of burned dirt and ozone. Far in the distance, some insect buzzed. 

“What would have happened,” she asked, finally, slowly, “If I hadn’t…?” her query trailed off.

_ Dunno, _ the snake said. _ Probably’ve know eternal bliss, had no worries or wars, joy and mirth, et cetra. Had lots of babies. Lived long. Died happy. _

She was studying her hand now, the snake noticed. It has been worn rough by the demands outside Eden; the carving and scraping and scrubbing and scabbing. On that first horrible day outside the garden, even touching hot sand with her fingertips made her cry out in pain; now, they’d developed thick pads, and it didn’t bother her at all.

“I like to make things,” she said. “Little birds in the wood. Pictures in the sand. Flowers in the skins, if there’s sinew to spare…” 

She sighed. “Adam doesn’t like it. But I _ want _ to make things. I want to _ know _ things.” She pointed to the clouds on the horizon. “Adam says that that’s His anger at us for our mistakes. But if it’s supposed to be mad, then why do the storms bring rain? Why does the earth smell so clean afterwards, and why does the grass grow better?”

She clenched her fist. “I want to make things_ better _. Better than in Eden. Better for us.” She looked at her belly again. “Better for them.”

The snake flicked its tongue. _ Good luck with that, then. _ With that, it turned and began to slink away.

“Wait!” Eve yelled. 

The snake gave pause. _ I thought you wanted me gone? _

“I do,” she huffed. “But I have a question for you.”

_ Fire away. _

“Do you think…” she paused, and glanced at the darkening sky. “Do you think He really loves us?”

The snake’s eyes narrowed. _ Why would you ask me that? _

Eve sighed. “Adam only gives me one answer, and it’s always the same and he yells about it for ages and… well, do you remember what you told me in the garden? When you told me to do the thing?”

_ About how you wouldn’t die if you ate it? _

“And, well…” she gestured. “I didn’t?”

_ Yes. _

“Why did He lie?”

_ I don’t know. _

“Then…” she paused. “If He didn’t want us to eat it, why did He put it there?”

_ If He truly loved you, would he lie? _

Eve thought carefully. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

_ Then you have your answer. _

With that, the snake absconded, leaving the woman to stand in the middle of the desert to ponder. The storm drew closer, and, just ahead of it, so did a figure. It had a spear, and it was clad in animal skins.

And, as she did regularly throughout her existence, Eve felt fear.

***

The snake reached the wall just as the first fat raindrops began to strike the ground. The angel was nestled in the half bricked-up gate, gloomily watching the unfolding downpour.

“Get thee away, demon,” he said, half-heartedly. Nevertheless, he shuffled to the side, leaving a gap for something more sizable than a snake. 

Crowley sat beside him. The drops had turned into a tumult, and thunder rumbled overhead. Crowley wondered if it was directed at anyone in particular.

“Tell me,” he said, lounging on the brick pile (2), “D’you think the higher-ups may have been a little… _ harsh _ in their retaliation?”

“What on earth do you mean?” Aziraphale countered. “The rules were made very clear, and they, well, _ broke _them, no thanks to you. Consequences are to be expected.”

Crowley ignored the accusation. “It’s just, y’know, seems a bit much, cursing their descendants forevermore, all that, for something they didn’t have much say in.”

Aziraphale’s expression darkened, and Crowley sensed an internal debate raging within the angel’s sanctimonious mind. After a measure, he seemed to reach a conclusion.

“It’s _ ineffable, _” he said, finally. Crowley snorted.

“Yes. That. _ Ineffable,” _the demon muttered.

The rain continued to bucket down. The angel watched it with quiet interest, while Crowley closed his eyes and tried to ignore its sound.

“For all that fuss,” he muttered, as he dozed off, “They’d better come up with something better than this.”

Far off, in a cave lit by a tiny fire and filled with the snores of her unknowing husband, Eve began to carve a bird.

* * *

(1) Amazingly, it was not Crowley who taught humanity the finer points of filthy language; he found, shockingly, they could do it better them him, _ and _ write it in far more creative places.

(2) Crowley, like cats and 800 pound gorillas, could lounge wherever he pleased.


End file.
